Joey only wished he could understand everything his personal mother Goddess cooed down at him when she fed him his bottle or changed his diapers. The only time he was perfectly content was when she held him and fed him his bottle of formula before going to sleep each night. Being nestled in her big protective arms and resting his head against her bosom while he peacefully suckled the bottle dry had become the zenith of each day. When he finished his bottle each night, she gently winded him and he immediately fell asleep in her arms. Every day had become a repetition of the previous day, with no discontentment over the sameness of his life. As time passed, his attitudes had made much the same adjustments to infancy that his body had. At first he had been irritated, but after he had grown used to his environment, he had forgotten that he had ever suffered any discomfort over the change.

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